Nineteen Years
by The Almighty Leprechaun
Summary: A series of letters from Artemis to Wally over a period of 19 years. AU.


**Here's a little side project I'm working on. I'm experimenting with different styles of writing and I wanted to do a series of letters. This thing quickly snowballed into a monster, but I outlined each letter so it won't be too hard to write. This series of letters were written in a period of 19 years. Originally I was going to title it Dear Dumb Dork, but I liked this title a little more. It makes sense later on. Usually I leave it all up to the reader's imagination to fill in the blanks, but if you have any questions about their past just let me know. I like answering questions. I might add the backstory on to the next chapter's author's note. Please let me know what you think. **

**I don't own the characters.**

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><p>August 1, 2022<p>

Dear Dumb Dork,

Today they laid you to rest. You're right next to your grandmother. It was a good funeral—well, as good as a funeral can be, I guess. I watched most of it from the parking lot. I felt I would've been out of place if I stood with your friends and family. As far as I can tell, you never told them about me.

I can't believe you're gone, KF. At first I thought you were ignoring me. We hadn't seen each other since June. Our relationship never really had strings, but I could always depend on a quick message or phone call from you. Then I saw the news the next morning. It's been a week and I'm still numb. I can't believe a simple bullet, of all things, would be the end of you. You used to joke about me being the ultimate cause of your demise. I always imagined that it would take a massive battle or alien invasion to leave you dead in your tracks, but I was wrong. All it took was two bank robbers and a single gunshot to end your life.

All my life I've lived around death. I was always taught it was just a part of life. Your death hit me like a freight train. Wally, I'm a mess. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't do anything at all. I can't forget you like I've done with the others I've lost. Every morning I wake up and look in the mirror and try to tell myself that the past five years were nothing but a bunch of one night stands and meaningless dates. It never works.

I can't stop thinking about all the things we never got to do, and the time we will never spend together. Wally, I don't know how to say this, but I'm pregnant. I'm six weeks along, but I've only known for three. I should've told you when I found out in July. Maybe you'd be alive if I did. I don't know what to do. I can't just walk up to your family a week after your death and break the news to them, but I can't let my family know either. I'm on my own and I'm scared.

I've packed up my place in Gotham. That city did me no favors; I'm not going to raise a kid there. I don't have anything else figured out. I have to cut my old ties with the Shadows. I've been doing freelance work lately, but I still have some debts to clear out to settle things.

Wally, I miss you every morning, day and night. I don't know how I'm going to do this without you. I'm still numb.

-The Harpy

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><p>September 3, 2022<p>

Dear Kid Mouth,

It's still hard without you being around. We never saw each other on a daily basis, but your absence is impossible to miss. I've moved to Central City. The town is a ray of sunshine compared to Gotham. I found a small apartment near the river. It's small, but it will do for now.

I've decided that I'm not going to tell your family. I don't want our kid near 'the life' at all. Hero or villain, I don't care. It's not happening. I already lost you; I can't lose our child to the same thing. I've made provisions that if something should happen to me, your family will be told about our child.

I dyed my hair back to blonde, just like I had it when we were teens. I'm sick of dying it black every month. I remember that one time you tried to help me with it. There was more dye on you than my hair. I can't remember what exactly you told me you told your team, but I do remember that they went on a two-day manhunt in Gotham to track down the Dye-Man. It was not the most convenient for me. I was off on assignment. It was one of the many you didn't support. You were a lot smarter than I gave you credit for. I know you didn't approve of my mission that week. That little manhunt did screw up my assignment, but it was for the better. I really didn't want to take out the ambassador of South Rhelesia.

God, I miss you so much. I miss your smile, your laugh and those eyes. I could stare into those emerald eyes of yours forever. I feel like you took a piece of me with you when you passed. There's this hollow space in my chest now.

I still don't know what to do about the kid. The internet has been helpful enough. I got a book about pregnancy that is supposed to help. I still need to find a doctor. It's strange. Things that should be so normal to any other civilian seem alien to me. As a kid I never went to the doctor unless I was dying or I'd broken something so badly that they couldn't fix it without major surgery. It's a little scary. I now have to think about things that I've never thought about before. I gotta find a job, pay my bills and taxes. I never thought I'd actually pay my taxes.

I got lucky with the job part, I guess. This family law firm nearby offered me a secretary position. Ironic, I know. The lady that runs the practice is very nice. I haven't told her about the baby yet. I need to wait until I start showing. I can't get fired now. I never thought I would use my college degree, but now it's all I got. I forgot how hard it is to get a job.

It's so strange. All I've every really thought about was myself, my survival. Now, I'm responsible for two. It's scary to think that I'm going to be a mother. I'm supposed to take lives, not bring them into the world. How am I going to raise this kid? I have no idea what I'm doing. My parents would probably be on the cover of the book on 'what not to do when raising a child'.

I don't know how I'm going to do this.

- Your Ninja Girlfriend

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><p>October 31, 2022.<p>

Dear Fleet Feet,

I had a doctor's appointment today. It's a boy! The doctor said he was looking healthy. I think today is the day it finally sank in. I'm going to be a mom. You were going to be a father…

The sadness is unbearable at times. It always returns to put a damper on things. Any warmth that the joy gives me is eventually put out by the fact that you won't be here to see this. You're gone.

It's all real now. My jeans don't fit; I can't wear half of my shoes. I've had aches and pains before, but I never knew how painful pregnancy could be. I'd gladly take a broken collarbone over this agonizing back pain. Advil is out of the question too. My go-to solution for most ailments is on the blacklist for the time being. To tell you the truth, this sucks.

I wish you were here for this. It probably wouldn't hurt as much. You always made things better.

-Ms. Congeniality

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><p>November 24, 2022,<p>

Dear Kid Butt,

Happy belated birthday. You would have been 27. I'm sorry that I couldn't write to you on your big day. I've been putting in extra hours at the office. It's not like you're going anywhere, but next year I'll be on time.

Money is tight with all of these expenses. I swear this kid is always hungry. I can now feel him kicking. He's going to make a great tap dancer some day. I haven't figured out a name for our son yet. Well, I know for sure I'm not going to name him Wallace. It seems to soon for such things to be done. I don't want to have my heart break in two every time I call this kid's name.

Thanksgiving was quiet this year. I remember it was one of your favorite holidays. You would always stuff yourself at your place and then after the football you'd slip away and find me. If I was in town, we would meet at the only diner that was open on a Thanksgiving Evening. Those were some of the best times we shared. We would eat burgers and watch the Black Friday shoppers line up. I always enjoyed making fun of them.

I went to that same diner tonight. Diane, that ancient waitress, was still there. She asked about you. I told her that you were away. She didn't believe me. I could see it by the way she looked at me. She sat with me and we talked. I was glad she didn't mention you again. I still can't say your name. Hell, it's hard enough to write it. It feels like I'm missing my second half. I never imagined you'd be the first to fall. I always thought I would be the first to kick the bucket. Now her I am, living, and you're six feet under or elsewhere living it up in the clouds.

It's not fair.

-Blondie

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><p>January 1, 2023<p>

Dear Flash Boy,

I think this is the first time I've rung in the New Year's sober in the last eight years. The fireworks aren't as impressive, but they were still beautiful. It reminded me of that night in Gotham.

You found me on the roof of my mother's apartment building clutching a bottle of my father's vodka and swearing at the sky. It was the first time you ever saw me cry, I think. I remember her blood was still on my hands. You were like a balloon trying to hug a cactus. I was angry, you were kind. Too kind. I don't remember what I said to you, but I knew there was venom on my tongue. I was going to burn that building down that night, hoping that the flames would somehow soothe my agony, my despair. You stopped me. You held me. You took the lighter and the bottle away. You carried me away to a safer place. The rest of that night is a blur, but I remember you stayed with me.

You always had a thing for trouble. It was like you could smell it from miles away. You could always find it too. Every New Years eve you'd find me. Usually it was in a bar, or a rooftop, or wherever else I had ended up.

It's no secret that I hate New Year's—I have a good reason, you of all people know that. The lack of alcohol has added an edge to my remembrance. Though, it seems that the fresh pain that explodes in my chest this time of year is dulled by the pain of losing you.

I'm beginning to worry about the future. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I can't be a secretary forever. Kids are expensive. I need to move out of the City. Central is a lot safer than Gotham, but there's still crime. I'm looking for a house.

I worry if I'm going to be a good mom. I don't know how to raise a kid the right way. I don't want him to turn out like me. I want him to have a normal life.

Speaking of our kid, he's always up to something. It seems like I have to abide by his schedule instead of mine. A full night's sleep is rare these days. Maureen, my boss, says it's something I should get used to. I'm hoping the kid doesn't have your mouth or I'm never going to get my rest.

I still haven't figured out a name. I have a list. I refuse to name him after anyone. I want him to make a name for himself instead of trying to live up to his namesake. My top three choices are Raymond, Parker and Jai.

They're opening an exhibit about you in the Flash museum. I'm not sure if I'm going to go see it. I'm not sure I can. No one wants to see a teary mess. It's too soon.

-Archery Girl

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><p>January 19, 2023.<p>

KF,

I found a new place. It's a nice, small, but I like it. There's enough room for a kid and me. Moving is a challenge when you're pregnant. Maureen, my boss offered to help. Usually I wouldn't accept assistance, but in my current state I need all of the help I can get.

Maureen and her daughter, Sam, helped me with the boxes and I had to hire movers to help with the furniture. The house seems like a mansion compared to my old apartment. It's empty.

I think I'm going to paint the nursery yellow, or I guess Sam is. I'm supposed to stay away from paint fumes. Sam is nice, like her mother. She's working on a nursing degree right now at Central University. She's been a lot of help. I really appreciate it. I forgot what it was like to have friends. Not that I really had any real friends, but the fake ones were okay sometimes.

The baby is due in March. I'm not ready for this. I don't know how to be a mother. I barely know how to be a decent human being. I wish you were here. You always brought out the good in me.

There never really was an 'us' in our relationship. It was something that happened on a whim every so often. Yet, we seemed so perfect for each other. I've never loved someone like I've loved you. It feels like you took a piece of me with you when you went. Half of me feel empty. I worry that the pain of losing you will never fade.

-AC

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><p>February 28, 2033<p>

Dear Wallman,

The baby came a little early. Everything was all right, but the little guy took me by surprise. Yesterday was supposed to be my last day working full time. Right before lunch my water broke. Maureen drove me to the hospital and stayed with me. I don't have enough kind words for that lady. I'm very thankful for modern medicine. I don't think I ever want to go through that again.

I decided on a name. How does Jai Peter Crock sound? He is so tiny. Five pounds two ounces. The little guy is a lot lighter now that I can hold him in my arms. He's handsome like you. He's definitely going to be a heartbreaker. My little heartbreaker. I wish you were here. I wish you could hold him and see how wonderful he is.

-Arty

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><p><strong>So? What do you think? I'm going to have about 5-8 letters per chapter. Please let me know what you think. If you have any questions just ask. Thanks for reading. Feedback is appreciated. <strong>


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